


The Proposal

by TypeSomeSenseToMe



Category: Paterson (2016), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, F/M, Fluff, I like to think of it as tasteful smut, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inspired by Paterson (2016), Marriage of Convenience, One Shot, Past Sexual Abuse, Paterson + Star Wars crossover, Paterson and Rey from Star Wars, Poetry, Romance, Smut, Sweetness, There's some smut, rotten original poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:21:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27740683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TypeSomeSenseToMe/pseuds/TypeSomeSenseToMe
Summary: Rey doesn't want to to go back to her home country. She comes up with a scheme to find someone in Paterson who can marry her and be okay with never having sex.That could work, right?
Relationships: Paterson (Paterson)/Rey (Star Wars)
Comments: 72
Kudos: 176
Collections: Reylo Hidden Gems





	The Proposal

Special thanks to [Semperfidani](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semperfidani/works) for the beautiful moodboard!

* * *

Paterson, New Jersey, was the worst place to live. Huge population, terrible economy, and the city’s poverty rate was nationally ranked. Crime could be a problem in some areas of the city, though not as terrible as it was in Newark or New York.

For Rey, Paterson did not feel like home, but it was perfect. Paterson was a place to hide. A place to get lost in. A place with mean, dark streets she had only ever felt safe walking.

She had experimented with a variety of jobs the city had to offer since her migration from England. Currently, she was employed by the United Parcel Service, a part time gig, working the sunrise shift, after which she was able to jump on the bus and go to her other job at New Jersey Transit, Market Street garage, as a mechanic, or bus technician.

A short walk from UPS to the bus stop allowed her to catch the 9:15 every morning to the other side of town. She swiped her bus pass and fumbled it back into her bag while she looked for a seat. There were few seats left, as usual on a Monday morning.

She sat and relaxed. Five hour shifts that started at 4:00 AM slinging boxes weren’t difficult, but she hadn’t sat down the whole morning.

Snippets of conversation in foreign languages drifted around her and the other passengers swayed with the flow of the big bus as it pulled away from the curb.

Her one indulgence in life was music. She crammed her noise-cancelling earbuds into her ears and turned up the tunes she had saved to her phone. She closed her eyes, making certain she avoided all eye contact with anyone else around her.

The bus made several stops along its familiar route, dropping off, picking up. The gentle rhythm of the ride almost made her fall asleep. The suspension was right on this bus.

Her bag went flying from her lap. The earbuds popped from her ears and Rey was thrown forward. A collective scream went up from the other passengers while she automatically put her hands out in front of her to catch her fall.

_Did we wreck?_

Rey glanced up into the rearview mirror that hung above the bus driver. Cherry cola-colored eyes belonging to the driver were staring right back at her. And those eyes didn’t move from hers. That gaze clung to her own as if asking _are you okay?_

The driver, a regular presence, familiar in his navy blue uniform, was breathing unsteadily. Black hair had fallen over his forehead. Rey’s brows came down low over her eyes before she began picking up her belongings.

The other passengers readjusted while some stood to see what was happening.

“Sorry, everyone. A lady stepped out in front of the bus,” the driver said. His voice was soft, slightly deep, but slightly high from all the excitement.

Another chorus of noise. Rey looked up again. His eyes were still watching her. He finally looked away and raked his black hair back in place.

People asked if the woman was okay. _Did she get hit?_

“No, no. She’s well on her way to wherever she is going. None the wiser,” he tacked on to himself.

Disgruntled relief became the mood as the bus got going again. Rey sat back and cycled a huge breath through her lungs. As much as she tried never to stare at people too much or make eye contact with strangers, her eyes kept going back to the dark haired, dark eyed bus driver.

Of course she’d seen him before, but she’d never really _seen_ him. They obviously worked for the same company, but not in the same department. She rode on the same bus every weekday morning but she’d never said hello to him.

So why was she seeing him now? Why was he seeing her? She never tried to draw attention to herself. One prolonged stare did not—

She quickly looked down when his eyes flicked up to hers in the mirror. She didn’t like it when people looked at her.

The bus soon came to her stop. She was the only one to exit from the front. As she did, she gave the driver one last glance. Still looking at her.

\---

Days, weeks passed. Same comforting routine. Same sturdy work. Sunny golden days. Rainy dreary days. Nights in the basement, blank paper possibilities, a pen, and a man with words melting onto the page. Weekends; quiet, peaceful days when he could visit Great Falls Park. The bar for a beer. Take naps.

He was solitary, and that was all right with him. He had freedom to do as he liked. No pressures from others to do something he didn’t want to do. Be somewhere he didn’t want to go. Be someone he didn’t want to be. Not like his supervisor, Donny, who had fresh grievances involving his far-flung family in India and his immediate family almost daily.

Yet, Paterson was lonely. He was alone and he was lonely.

Conversations were held around him all day long, but the only role he played in them was as an impartial hearer. No advice given, no advice taken. Just a hostage listener.

And sometimes that was the worst. He’d heard stories that would have been better left unsaid. Some tales hung around in his mind for far too long, uninvited, taking up space, using brain cells that had better and more productive jobs to be doing.

Lately he’d been pondering on the definition and the importance of the color hazel. Green but not green. Gold but not gold. Brown but not brown. Clear and distinct one day, unfathomable on another. A foggy forest. Morning rays of golden sun beaming down through a dense green canopy. Synapses firing. Rods and cones adjusting. Intelligence and secrets. A dark forest that had much to keep hidden.

All that from a pair of pretty eyes that he couldn’t stop himself from seeing. At night. At morning. Along his route. In the depths of a tall mug of golden pale ale.

In his favorite spot to watch the falls, he thought of her. The first girl to capture his imagination in a long while. No uniform, but always in boots. Always with little earbuds in her ears. No doubt to muffle the conversations that he had to work very hard to tune out.

She was small and young, probably too young for him. And that should have put an end to it.

But it wasn’t an end to seeing her every day. A stubborn, smoldering fire that wouldn’t be quenched. No end at all.

No real beginning.

Until there was.

\---

The steering began to seize, the engine stuttered and an alarm buzzed. The suspension built into the driver’s seat worked hard as the bus bounced to an untimely halt.

No life. The engine would not turn over. The phone, dead.

He ushered his passengers off the bus, unsure what to do with them. He should call Donny.

The only payphone he could see was utterly destroyed. No one would be making a call from that sad piece of busted, graffitied, city of Paterson property.

A little girl offered the use of her smartphone. He chose to shun such modern distractions, but gladly used her offering to aid the worried people around him.

Call made, it wasn’t long before another bus came along to deliver his passengers to their destinations.

For him, it was a longer wait until the tow truck arrived. And that was another ordeal. Took an hour to prep the bus, prop it up, and hook it to the heavy tow. All that weight and length maneuvering through the narrow, crowded streets of Paterson? Hair raising.

Back at the depot, nerves fried, he grabbed his jacket and his lunchbox and the notebook he always kept close.

A group of mechanics came out to inspect his bus, the number twenty three. And who else could be among them but a small, booted, coveralled, hazel-eyed girl whom his thoughts dwelt on more than was strictly necessary.

He awkwardly raised a free hand and offered a twitchy wave.

“Hi,” he said softly to her.

“Hullo. What happened?” she asked. And her accent indicated that she was from England. He did not expect that.

“Uh, it, well, it sputtered out. An electrical issue, I’m sure.”

Her dark eyebrows rose and she nodded slowly. “A starting point. I like it.” And she was off to do her job.

A job he’d never realized was right under his nose. He could have seen her after any one of his shifts ended. He could have not only seen her most mornings, but possibly most evenings had he only looked.

He watched again while the tow truck dismounted the bus. Another long process. But the bus could not be towed into the garage building. The mechanics would have to service it out on the depot lot until they could get it operational.

“What time does your shift end?” he asked the hazel-eyed girl when she came his way again.

Her eyes went big and wide and worried. “What? Why do you want to know that?”

He swallowed and looked down. Chances, chances. He was bad at taking chances. “Would you like to—”

“No.” A word with utmost finality to it. “I don’t have time for that.”

“Oh.” He nodded at her, part relief, part understanding. She frowned and shrugged and went on her way.

And that should have put an end to it.

\---

There was always a date in her head. A looming deadline of sorts. Her work visa would expire. And she didn’t want to go back. She would never go back. There was nothing in England that she would go home for. And certainly not for _family._

She liked the small existence she’d carved out for herself in Paterson. She wanted to keep it. Perhaps there may be an easier way to keep it. The advertisement for a $300 divorce lawyer on the side of the bus gave her the idea.

She could… She could marry. _Ugh._ The thought brought on a bout of nausea.

Become a naturalized citizen. Permanent.

But the marriage didn’t necessarily _have_ to be permanent…

Yeah. She nodded to herself, denying that cloying emptiness inside her. It didn’t have to last. It could serve her purposes nicely. And then she wouldn’t have to worry about expiring visas or deportation or whatever they did with illegals now.

All she would need to do is find someone and sacrifice a few years of her life. And make sure that they were okay with no sex.

Yeah. That could work.

She thought of the men she knew from her jobs. Trotted them through a show ring in her head. _Too old. Married. Serious girlfriend. Gross. Annoying. Gross. Annoying._ But then she remembered a set of cola brown eyes staring at her. The same guy had tried to ask her out. Tall. So tall and broad and all that black hair. Not that handsome. But not gross or annoying. She didn’t know if he was married. Or with someone. _Hm._

Maybe she needed to find out.

Maybe he wouldn’t like what she wanted from him. It was sort of an unfair arrangement for anyone but her. Come to think of it, it was a really shitty offer.

Marry her, stay married for a few years, no sex, not much of a relationship, not much of anything. She could go about her business and he could go about his.

She didn’t know how to develop a healthy relationship with anyone. She _did_ know that she was alone and she didn’t particularly like it.

Maybe marriage could be a nice thing.

Could she imagine herself married to the brown-eyed bus driver?

Daydreaming of someone she knew hardly anything about could be a dangerous game. What if he wasn’t even a nice person?

That would change things. That would change everything. She didn’t want to be around people who wouldn’t be nice to her.

She would just ask him.

\---

Monday 

Determination drove her up the steps to the bus at 9:15 that morning. She’d had the whole weekend to plan out what she was going to say. Bus pass in hand she stopped in front of the driver and breathed.

Stared at him for too long.

He stared back, expression blank, black eyebrows slowly rising higher.

“Good morning,” he said. “Want to take a seat?”

“Yes.” She swiped her pass and asked, “Are you a nice person?”

His eyes traveled right and left and his lips parted in uncertainty. “Uh, y-yes. Are you?” he asked, and the corner of his mouth tipped up in a tiny, shy smile.

“I think so. I don’t know.” She finally went to sit down so he could do his job.

She shoved her earbuds in her ears and avoided looking up again. Oh, but she did.

Brown eyes clashed with hers a few times in the rear-view mirror.

At her stop, she hesitated and asked, “Do you like animals?”

“Eh. Squirrels are cute.”

She frowned and stepped down, then turned back and looked at the driver. “Huh.”

Tuesday 

“Are you married?” she asked while swiping her pass.

That same shy smile popped up. “No.”

“Seeing someone?”

He shook his head as his eyes trailed down to her boots and back up again. Not in a nasty way, just a puzzled kind of way.

On the way off the bus, she asked, “Who did you vote for in the last election?”

He pushed open the door and narrowed his eyes at her. “Why do you hate my American freedoms?”

Someone seated behind her heard their conversation and started cackling. She scrunched her eyebrows together and took off.

Wednesday 

“What would you do if you found a hundred dollar bill on the ground?” she asked that rainy morning.

He snorted softly, almost smiling. “Finders, keepers.”

Her mouth fell open with a gasp. “What if the money was inside a wallet?”

“Then I’d try to track down who lost it.”

“But you would still take the money out of the wallet?”

“No.”

She sat in the first seat, giving her a direct view of the side of the man’s face. He had moles. She found that kind of fascinating for some reason. Big ears, big nose. Unreal lips. Funny chin. Phenomenal eyes.

Before her stop came, she stood and held onto the bar by his seat.

“What would you say to me if you knew I was going to die tomorrow?”

He slowed at the stop and looked up into her eyes. “What is your name?”

“Rey.” She paused. “With an E.” She frowned. “What’s yours?”

“Paterson.”

She huffed. “Are you a liar?”

His head jerked backward. “I never was good at telling lies.”

“So? What would you say to me?”

He swallowed and blinked. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

She bit her lip from saying more and left.

Thursday 

That morning, as she stepped up on the bus, Paterson pulled a note from his breast pocket and handed it to her without a word.

She sat down in the front seat again and watched him. Watched his huge hands on the steering wheel.

The note in her hand crinkled a bit. She opened it. There were only a few lines written on it.

_Rey,_

_Your future needs you_ _  
__Your past does not_

She stared at his handwriting until it blurred. Until big splotches of tears fell on the whitespace.

The chime for her stop sounded eventually. She did not look at or speak to Paterson as she rushed off the bus.

Friday 

Rey got on the bus, hoodie pulled over her head, and she did not ask Paterson anything. She liked the man, and she had not planned on _liking_ him. She sat in a seat further back, where she couldn’t see him, and stuck her earbuds in.

She’d thought too much and too long on the words he’d written to her. She’d dwelt on the past more than he could have known. Every broken, blackened piece of it.

She’d left home to get away. Escape. Yet she’d carried everything with her that had happened to her, everything that had been done to her, like some poorly pack mule that had no other purpose but to carry the weight of one person’s mangled world.

She was _not_ going to be a pack mule any longer.

When it was her turn to disembark, she stopped by Paterson’s side.

Quietly, but firmly, she asked, “Would you be interested in being my husband?”

Paterson’s eyes went wide and his plush lips fell open. “Uh… Sh-shouldn’t we, uh, get dinner or something, first?” he mumbled. A red flush washed over his whole pale face, all the way up to his black hair.

She handed him her own note. “If you like.” She looked at the note clutched between two of his large fingers. Then she turned and left.

\---

In the past week, easy sleep became a stranger. Thoughts of a hazel-eyed Rey kept him up at night walking the paths of daydreams.

Her morning questions were never casual. Her questions were hunters. Challengers. Dares. Pecking at him like a persistent little bird trying to loosen a morsel to eat.

She’d been vetting him out in an odd and cursory way. Why would she ask _him?_ Her last question was more request than searching inquiry.

What a strange little bird. The one time he’d been bold enough to approach her, she’d shut him down like his bus had shut down on the street that very same day. And now things had changed, and she wanted to jump right into the dangerous falls over the Passaic. Into the deepest parts, without even dipping a toe in to see if the temperature was acceptable.

She must be in dire straits to make such a request of him. If she was serious about this, and he had no reason to doubt that she was, he’d need to find out the truth.

When he took his lunch break, he slipped the note she had given him from his front breast pocket.

_Paterson,_

_My work visa is expiring. I want to become a permanent U.S. citizen. A marriage could make that happen for me. We would only have to stay married a few years and then we can go our separate ways. If you would be willing, here is my address and phone number._

He frowned as he read. This couldn’t be the whole story. Someone young, and frankly, quite beautiful, like Rey, should be able to have her pick of men. Someone she might actually care for, someone she would actually _want_ to stay married with.

That obviously wasn’t him.

Now, the next questions: Did he want to get to the bottom of this mystery? Or did he just need to turn her down flat and put a stop to this?

He’d been amused by her daily questions. But he knew there was something more, something deeper driving them. He wouldn’t be able to puzzle this out with pen and paper. Judging by her standoffish behavior, a chisel or a mattock would be more appropriate.

_Rey Smith,_ her note had said, giving her a last name.

_What are you running from, Rey Smith? Who hurt you?_

At the end of his Friday shift, he didn’t leave the depot for his walk home as he would normally have done. He searched around the garage until he found her working underneath a bus.

“Rey,” he said when she looked up at his sudden presence.

She stood, brushing her coveralls off, and gave him a puzzled frown.

“When does your shift end?”

She searched for the big wall clock. “Um, soon. Now.”

He nodded. “Okay. I’ll wait for you.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you think it’s time we sat down together and had a talk?”

“Oh. Well, I…” She paused and frowned again in thought. “Yeah, this is a good time. Um…” She bent and picked up several tools scattered around her workspace and took them to a multi-drawer tool chest. After she’d put them all away she said, “Okay.”

“You keep your work area clean,” he noted.

“They get kind of teed off if you leave things lying about.” She shrugged. “Where do you want to talk?”

“Can I take you out for dinner?”

Another brow-crinkling frown.

“Or my house is about a ten minute walk from here. We could go there instead?”

She nodded, but he could see she was nervous about it.

“Okay. I’ll meet you out front in a minute.”

Once she joined him outside the depot office, without coveralls, he turned toward the old factories and the shortcut he’d picked up many years ago when he began working for NJT. It was a nice route. Old building architecture drew his eye each time. He thought about the past and the workers who’d traveled the same path each day to the factories powered by the Great Falls of the Passaic, and how those people and their jobs didn’t exist here anymore.

“How old are you?” he asked her.

“Twenty three. You?”

“Twenty nine. How long have you been in Paterson?”

“About six months.”

“And you work for NJT.”

“I work at UPS in the mornings. From four to nine.”

He glanced sharply at her then. “You’re working a part time job and then a full shift on top of that? Every day?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I like the work. Keeps me busy. I don’t like to be idle.”

“Do you take the weekends off?”

“Yes. But I have thought about looking for another job for Saturdays and Sundays only.”

“When do you find time to live?” he asked her quietly.

“I listen to music. That’s all I need.”

“What do you like listening to?”

“Mellow ambient electronica. That's the best way I can describe it.”

“I don’t really know what that is. You’ll have to show me sometime.”

She blinked up at him. “All right.”

“I still don’t understand why you want all your time to be filled with work.”

There was no forthcoming answer.

A homeless man named Scotty sat by the path. Paterson encountered him at least once a week. Scotty had his own set of problems. Paterson pulled a few dollars from his pocket and handed it over.

“You a good boy, Paterson,” Scotty mumbled when he took the money.

“See you around, Scotty.”

They walked on in silence for a bit.

“I need to know more before I can make a decision about your proposal.”

She spoke up almost as soon as he did. “I don’t want to have sex. Ever.”

He stumbled over his big feet. “Uh…”

Rey stopped in front of him and turned to look back.

“You saw me and thought I’d be a good candidate as a sexless marriage partner?”

She shrugged. “You don’t annoy me. And you’re not gross like the other guys I know.”

“Wow,” he murmured as he pulled the house keys from his pocket.

He opened up the door for her and switched on the light. “Bathroom is around the corner if you want to wash up. I’ll just be in the kitchen, not thinking about not having sex.”

He whipped up some sandwiches, because that’s all he had in the fridge. He set their plates out on the tiny dining table. He poured some lemonade into two glasses.

Rey sat down and he joined her.

“What are you running from, Rey?” he asked as he pushed a glass of cold lemonade toward her.

“Why do you think I’m running from something?” she whispered.

He took a bite of his sandwich and watched her spin her plate around.

He swallowed and took a sip of lemonade. “I’m not stupid.”

She lowered her brow and tipped the corners of her lips down. “I didn’t think you were,” she murmured. “It’s just… I can’t be like other people.” She sniffed, voice getting quieter. “I can’t talk about it. It’s too much.”

His wrists on the table, he rubbed his thumbs over his fingertips. “I’m trying to think this through, here, so bear with me. In a few more years it’s going to be too late for me to start all over again. It’s the right time for me, now, to get married and have kids, _maybe._ If it’s not going to be a possibility with you, I don’t think I can help you.”

Confusion contorted her expression. “You would want to do that with me? Why?”

He smirked a little. “Well, you don’t annoy me. You’re not too gross, either.”

The first smile she’d ever given him blossomed across her face before she looked down to her untouched sandwich. But he’d seen the straight, even teeth, and also a dimple at her cheek. He was afraid he was a sucker for dimples.

“I assume you’re on a time crunch with this visa expiration date?”

“Yes. I need to file the right paperwork within the next week.”

“Oh. That’s fast.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, clasping his hands in front of his mouth. He tapped on his bottom lip with his thumbs.

“If this can’t develop into the real thing, you know, after we’ve had enough time to get to know one another, then I can’t do it. I’m sorry.”

\---

A weird pang hit Rey right in the side of her chest. That’s when she realized she really wanted him to say yes to her insane scheme. She wanted him to be part of her life. She felt… safe with Paterson.

But she understood why he declined. What was she offering him but a loveless contract that would take up full years of his life? She would be the only one benefitting from the agreement. There wasn’t anything she could give him in return. She had no great wealth but the small savings account she’d been building for the past months. She had no possessions.

She only had herself to offer. And that was a pretty poor bargain since she couldn’t even give herself to him in an intimate way. She couldn’t. Not after what she’d suffered…

“You could see other girls. I wouldn’t mind.”

“While we’re married? That’s a hard no for me. I wouldn’t be unfaithful to my wife.”

Her heart gave her another little jolt. “You want a real marriage.”

“Yes. I only plan to get married once, and I’m going to make it count.”

“You would want a real marriage with me?”

“If I had the time, I’d get to know you. You’d get to know me. Make sure we’re a good match. And then I’d work to make _us_ work. Give us every chance to make a go of it.”

“Date me this weekend,” she blurted. She was crazy. Crazy. Why was she still pushing this? She stared up into his cola-colored eyes that seemed to change in different light. Watched him roll his bottom lip up into his mouth and smash it against his top lip.

Maybe she could change.

Maybe she could try for him?

But that sickening fear made her tremble from the inside out. She wasn’t ready. Didn’t know if she could ever be ready.

Could she try to have a real marriage? Would Paterson be patient with her? Would he be gentle and caring? Would she be able to… in time?

Paterson sighed, began to shake his head.

“I could try,” she breathed. “I could try to have a real marriage with you.” Her voice shook.

“Rey, I won’t make you or ask you to push yourself to do something you’re clearly uncomfortable with. I couldn’t bear the thought of that.”

She nodded, raised a hand and gestured with it. “That’s why I think you’re the one who I could try for.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think you would hurt me.”

He shook his head. “Never,” he murmured, looking stricken.

Rey dropped her eyes to her plate and pinched a corner of the bread crust. He’d made this sandwich for her, and she hadn’t even touched it yet. She took a bite and chewed slowly. It was good.

She wiped the crumbs from her mouth. Took a deep breath. “I feel like you’re my best chance. I’m not going to qualify for a work visa again. I’m sorry that it’s such short notice and that I have nothing to give you in return. I… I need your help.”

\---

Paterson gave in to sweet, desperate pleas over the dinner table.

It was clear that Rey Smith had no one. Or, if she did, she wanted nothing further to do with them. But now she had him. He could not deny her.

He recalled a poem by Emily Dickinson where she said:

_If I can stop one heart_ _  
__from breaking,_ _  
__I shall not live in vain;_ _  
__If I can ease one life the aching,_ _  
__Or cool one pain,_ _  
__Or help one fainting robin_ _  
__Unto his nest again,_ _  
__I shall not live in vain_.

Those lines spoke to him, reminded him of Rey, of himself, and what he was about to do. If he denied her this, he knew he wouldn’t be able to cope with the guilt. He was able, and perhaps she would be the greatest challenge and adventure he would ever rise to meet.

He washed their plates at the sink in his small kitchen and she dried each item with small work-roughened hands. Black grease stained her fingernails and the tiny valleys of her skin. Her left thumbnail was purple because she must have smashed it during one of her jobs.

“I suppose you’ll have to move in with me. I own this house. It belonged to my grandparents.”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought that far ahead, yet. I was able to walk to UPS from my apartment every morning.”

“Are you in some financial trouble that you need to keep both your jobs?”

She shook her head. “I don’t have a car, either.”

“Are you saving up to buy one?”

“No. But I will pay for all the immigration stuff.”

“You don’t have to work so much.” He would be happy to help support her. That’s what married people did.

“Working keeps my mind occupied.”

“What is it that you’re trying so hard to forget?” He shouldn’t have asked. He knew it was too soon.

Rey sucked in a breath. “It’s not something I can forget.” Her eyes grew distant, troubled.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked her. Pushing, again.

“I should go home.” Yes. He’d pushed too far.

“You should know something before you go,” he caught her attention. “If we’re going to do this, I’m all in for you, Rey. Even the things that you’re afraid to face. I want you to be happy. I hope that both of us can be happy together.”

Head bowed, he heard her sniffling. Then she said, “I’m going to try. I will try my best, Paterson. Thank you.”

She busied herself gathering up her bag and hoodie. So small, hunched over, crying, or trying her best not to cry. 

Paterson’s own heart clenched, hating that she was hurting, only wanting to help. And he was helping her. He had hopes that they could come to a mutual care for one another. It would take time, and he was prepared to offer her the time she needed.

“I can drive you home, Rey.”

The next time she looked up at him, her eyes were red-rimmed and almost tropical blue-green. The tears had washed them in a new color. How amazing.

She lived in a tiny apartment above a Cuban market. He found a parking spot on the street and walked with her. There must have been six different deadbolts on her door, and he watched her unlock all of them. The room she lived in had a bathroom, a hotplate, and a mattress on the floor. Paterson was shocked and dismayed with the state of the place.

He clenched his fingers tight and controlled his voice, trying not to sound overbearing. “Rey, let’s go ahead and pack up your stuff. You may as well move in with me now. I don’t see why you should wait. It’ll make things easier later on.” He wasn’t going to let her stay here one more minute on her own.

\---

Rey saw the look in Paterson’s eyes. He tried to hide his reaction, but she’d caught it. Pity and revulsion and shock. She knew the place was awful, but she’d refused to put anything into making it homey. She didn’t need homey, she needed function.

But it was true that her apartment functioned in only the most basic sense. And the more she worked, the less time she had to spend there. It was as tidy as she could make it, but the building was old, and that’s something cleaning couldn’t mask.

Was she ready to leave the place? Move in with a man who was still practically a stranger, even though he was the man who had agreed to marry her?

She’d already set her crazy plan in motion, might as well have the lady balls to see it through.

Rey blew out a breath and looked around at her meager belongings. She could easily pack up what she wanted inside the blankets and sheets on her mattress. The rest could stay.

“Are you sure?” she asked quietly.

“I’m sure.” No hesitation.

So she moved into Paterson’s house.

His spare bedroom was so much nicer than her whole apartment.

“I only have one bathroom,” he said apologetically. “We’ll have to share.”

She blinked. “Okay.”

He showed her the rest of his house and the basement, where the laundry room was located as well as the garage for his SUV.

The place was old fashioned, and looked like it hadn’t been updated since his grandparents decorated it in the 1940s. It had charm.

She set out her laptop and phone to charge on the little desk in her room, plugged into the ancient electrical outlets. Hung up her clothes in the little closet. Set her shoes on the floor beneath her clothes. 

She found Paterson down in the basement, in a small utility room with shelves that held labeled cans and tools and various items. And books. Lots of books. He was writing atop a scarred worktable in a small, unlined notebook.

He closed the book and put down the pen when he noticed her.

“Are you settling in all right?” he asked.

“Yeah, all done. I just wanted to know what your wi-fi password is.”

His eyebrows went high and his chin went backward into his neck. “I don’t have a wi-fi.”

“Oh. You don’t have Internet access.”

“Nope.”

The house wasn’t the only thing stuck in the 1940s.

\---

Saturday, her day off, and she was awake before four in the morning. She laid in bed, listening to the muted noises of the house and the community around them. No one stirred this early. She didn’t wish to wake her new housemate.

But she wasn’t good at laying around.

There was a lot that had to be done before she could marry Paterson. They had to make an appointment to apply for a license and wait almost four days before they could go before a Magistrate. She’d done her research the night before she’d asked Paterson if he would like to be her husband.

Nervous energy caused her hands to tremble slightly. She remembered what she had promised. That she would try. Maybe the craziest thing about this whole scheme was that she already sort of trusted Paterson. Trusted that he would help. Trusted that he would be patient.

She had already been witness to his little kindnesses. His words the day before had been reassuring.

But she would have to wait and see if he lived up to those words.

Rey’s default condition was to always expect nothing or always expect the worst. She’d learned that to hope was to be foolish, careless, and reckless.

Gathering up her laundry from the day before, including the blanket and sheets from her old bed, she lumbered with the load to the basement stairs. The sheet fell from the wad in her hands and her foot caught the corner of it.

Rey remembered every hard impact of her knee, her head, her shoulder, her elbows, her hips before she came to a thudding stop at the bottom of the stairs on the cold basement floor. She gasped, but the breath was knocked out of her. It took a while before she was able to cry out in pain. Curled into a ball, still clutching her dirty laundry.

Thunder came rumbling down the stairs, interspersed with the crack of lightning calling her name.

She could only see Paterson’s blur through the tears in her eyes.

“Oh, no, Rey… What happened? Where does it hurt?” He brushed the hair out of her face and tried to move the laundry out of the way. He fussed over her. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I heard you falling. I’m so sorry.”

He clutched her trembling hand and she held on tight.

“Should I call an ambulance? You’re bleeding.”

Her mind held on to the sound of his voice, so earnest and fearful. She needed to comfort him.

“Give me a minute,” she breathed through clenched teeth. “Help me up.”

He crouched by her side and steadied her with a giant hand at her back, the other hand still clasping hers. Once she was sitting, he brushed his fingers through her long hair until it laid along her spine.

She flexed her joints and pointed her toes. “I don’t think anything is broken,” she groaned. She knew what broken bones felt like.

Paterson huffed a breath in relief. “Can you stand?”

He was there to hold her up while she tested the integrity of her bones. “I’m going to be bruised and sore, I think.”

“Let’s get you upstairs. I can tend the cuts and get some ice on you.” He looked between her and the narrow stairs. “I’m going to pick you up, okay?”

He gathered her close to his chest, wrapped his arms around her and picked her up, her front smashed to his front, with her legs dangling. That was the easiest way for him to carry her up through the narrow door on the upper level of the house.

Rey breathed into his chest, too distracted to even think about panicking, as she might have done under different circumstances when people got too close. She dug her fingers into his undershirt while he eased them up the steps one at a time.

At the kitchen table, he sat her in the chair and scrambled to find whatever he was looking for. He made quick, barefoot dashes into the bathroom, back to the kitchen, and so forth. He must have jumped straight out of bed to find her on the floor of the basement, only wearing a white T-shirt and loose plaid boxer shorts.

She had on leggings and a T-shirt as well. And different bruises blossoming across her skin. The side of her head hurt. She touched it and saw that it was bleeding.

Paterson’s anxious expression caused a pang in her chest when he finally pulled up a chair in front of her. He patted at the side of her head with a cool, damp cloth. His face was still puffy from sleep. She supposed he had been rudely awakened too early on a Saturday morning.

“I’m sorry I’ve caused such a fuss.”

His eyebrows went together when he met her eyes. “No, baby, it’s okay. I’m sorry you got hurt. I feel terrible.” He ripped open a bandage, added some ointment, and smoothed it onto her temple. He tended her elbows the same way.

Rey had jolted at the endearment. That may have been the second time she heard him use it.

“Are you cut up anywhere else?” he asked her.

“I need to check my knees.”

He was already ahead of her, and rolled her leggings up. No blood there, just skinned a little, and more bruises.

“You need so many ice packs,” he murmured as he caressed a thumb over her knee. “Are you sure I don’t need to take you to the emergency room?”

She flexed everything again, felt the soreness setting in. She shook her head, patted his knee.

“Thank you, Paterson. I’ll take some Tylenol if you have it.”

“Y-yeah.” He jumped up and grabbed what she needed. “Are you hungry? I have cereal.”

He didn’t wait for her to answer, he just brought it all to her, along with some ice packs and dishcloths to wrap them in.

Paterson was definitely a nice man. And though she sat there hurting all over, she noticed and appreciated everything. He held the first pack up to her head. “Here,” he said, still fussing over her.

Rey’s hand landed on top of his with the ice pack. “Thanks, I got it,” she murmured. She held his worried eyes for a few moments. She ate a few bites of the cereal he put before her and took the Tylenol.

“I think I’ll go lay down for a while longer,” she said.

He threw back his chair and scooped her up in his arms. He laid her in the bed and went back for the other ice packs. They both arranged pillows and the ice packs to cover all the places that were bruising the worst.

“I’m sorry I fell down the stairs,” Rey said. “I didn’t mean to give you a heart attack this morning.”

He shook his head and smoothed the hair around her face. His being so close, looming over her, should have triggered some deep-seated warnings within her. She didn’t like it when people were this close and touching her. But none of those feelings surfaced. The fear, the nausea, the dread, it didn’t happen.

She took some deep breaths and gazed up at Paterson. How was this happening? Why wasn’t she absolutely terrified? But her heart beat steadily. No threat, no gut-tearing horror. Having Paterson close was… a nice feeling.

“I’m going to install a laundry chute so you don’t have to carry things down the stairs like that again.”

She pressed her lips together in a pained smile and closed her eyes. The next time she opened them, Paterson was there changing her ice packs out. He was dressed in a casual button down and navy pants.

Rey attempted to raise up, but he pressed a hand to her shoulder. She gasped and jerked away from him. “Don’t.”

He drew back quickly, blinking. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t like to be held down,” she whispered, eyes wide.

Paterson swallowed hard as he gazed down at her. “I’ll bring the ice back in about twenty minutes.”

“Do you want to sit with me for a while?” She knew she’d put a wall up, but she’d decided to not leave it there.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be right back.”

He had a book in his hand when he came back to her room. She glanced up at him. “Are you going to read to me?” She didn’t know why the idea pleased her so much.

Paterson smiled a little. “If you feel up to it.”

“Yes, please.” She moved over so he could sit with her on the bed. He only hesitated a second before he toed off his shoes and sat on top of the covers next to her.

Over the next hour, Rey fell in love with the sound of Paterson’s voice as he read poetry to her.

\---

He insisted on carrying her into the Registrar’s office for their Monday morning appointment. And he carried her everywhere else they went. He’d taken the week off and had her call and take the week off as well. It was true they had a lot of stops to make to get the license and paperwork they needed, and they had to do it all together. They would have to wait another seventy-two hours until they could go before a Magistrate.

He got a good look at her face in the sunlight and grimaced. “People are going to think I’ve been beating on you,” he murmured.

“I can walk, Paterson. Put me down.” She huffed a soft laugh. He’d been hovering and taking such good care of her all weekend. She already knew that she’d made the right choice when she’d picked him to marry. He was going to be good to her, and she didn’t know how, yet, but she was going to be good to him.

The bruises weren’t as bad as they could have been because he’d helped her keep ice on them. But she was still sore in places and moving slow.

Rey raked her hair over to the injured side of her face so that it covered the worst of the bruising. “There,” she said with a little smile up at Paterson.

“When I first saw you on the bus, I didn’t realize your hair was so long. It’s pretty.”

She felt her face turn red at the compliment.

He offered her his hand once they were inside the building. She took it, thankful for his support.

When they took turns filling their information into their application, Rey learned that his full name was Benjamin Paterson.

“I didn’t know that was your first name,” she stage-whispered to him.

He chuckled.

“Do you prefer to be called Paterson?”

“I wouldn’t mind it if you wanted to call me Ben.” He looked at her first name on the application. “I assume you prefer Rey to Regina?”

She nodded. “I like Rey better.”

\---

That afternoon, Paterson brought out another book of poetry. Instead of him reading to her, she read for him. He laid back and closed his eyes, soaking up the cadence and lilt of her accent. It transformed the words of his favorite works into something spectacular.

While she was reading, he fell in love with her.

It happened that fast.

She laughed at a subtle bit of crafted prose, and he fell hard.

In that moment, he would have kissed her. Would have caught her sweet voice or her sweet laughter with his own mouth. He knew she wasn’t ready. She wouldn’t have welcomed a kiss from him.

He hoped one day that would change. That she’d eagerly accept an impromptu kiss or hug or caress.

He was still haunted by the look in her eyes when he’d only tried to keep her from rising out of bed the other day. Someone had hurt his girl bad.

Paterson was a patient man. He didn’t know what she’d gone through, but he could tell she was strong. If he was patient enough, showed her that he cared, that he would give everything he had for her, then perhaps one day, she’d feel the same way about him.

He left her to rest and retreated to the basement. He’d taken care of the laundry that had tripped her down the stairs and folded it. He picked the spot where he was going to cut a hole in the floor so she’d have a laundry chute.

Later, he sat down at his work table and wrote out the lines rattling around in his head. He wrote for her.

\---

By Thursday, they’d grown somewhat comfortable around each other. He brought her a little bundle of flowers for her to carry to the courthouse. And he got her a ring. It was in his pocket. He felt a little foolish about it because he didn’t ask her if she wanted one.

His friend, Doc, from Shades Bar, was going to act as his witness, and Doc was bringing his wife as their second witness.

It was a bright afternoon when they went hand-in-hand into the Passaic County courthouse. He’d put on a tie. She’d left her hair down.

“Are you sure, Rey?” he asked, hand on the door.

That dimple she had presented itself. “I’m sure, Ben.”

Doc greeted them both in the lobby and Paterson made the introductions.

“Wooo, Paterson! You’ve gone and found you a pretty woman. How about that.” Doc sputtered when his wife smacked him across the belly.

Paterson tried to hold back a smile when he looked down at Rey. She was blushing. He squeezed her hand. She clutched the flowers to her chest.

The official ceremony lasted a minute. Seconds. He surprised her with the ring that slipped easily over the correct finger of her left hand. The Magistrate said they could kiss.

He was unsure as he stooped down to her level, but he saw the look of determination on her face. He fell in love with her again.

How many times was that supposed to happen?

Their lips met, quick, soft, and Paterson was still hanging there when she pulled away.

Signing the paperwork took longer than the ceremony.

As they left, Doc said, “Better not see you at the bar tonight, Paterson.”

Paterson chuckled, felt his face go a little hot. They all shook hands and parted on the courthouse steps.

On the bus ride back to their neighborhood, Rey and Paterson had to sit very close together because the bus was full of people. He chanced putting an arm around her. She tensed at first, but soon relaxed against him. His thumb drew circles on her upper arm.

She looked into his eyes. Her breathing had gone unsteady. Paterson swallowed, glancing down at her lips. Traced his eyes over her face. Ghosted a knuckle along the side of her jaw and soft cheek. He could eat her up with his eyes for the rest of his life and never go hungry.

They walked slowly back to the house when the bus came to their stop. Fingers locked together. Shy side smiles.

Things were different now. Their world had shifted.

“I belong to you,” Paterson murmured when they reached the front door. He couldn’t stop himself. The truth was bleeding out of him.

She led him by the hand to her bedroom.

“I’m prepared to give you all the time you need, Rey.”

“Maybe I don’t need time. Maybe I need you.”

“We don’t have to rush.”

“Okay. We’ll go slow.”

“I don’t want to hurt you or scare you. That would kill me.”

She nodded. “I would like it if you kissed me again. Soft and gentle.”

Paterson smiled. “I’ll kiss you anytime you want.”

“Now would be good,” Rey whispered.

He touched his lips to her forehead. Eyebrow. Eyelid. Cheek. Ear. She sighed. Grasped his face. Pulled him in.

Kissed him.

He left his hands by his side, afraid to touch, to break this connection. He would let her lead.

Her lips dragged over his. Snagging and tugging with a sensuous slide. He licked his upper lip, touching her with the tip of his tongue. She pulled back slightly, as if to study what he’d just done.

Her fingers wove into his hair when she pulled him down again. Her little tongue, hot and searching, slipped between his lips. The fingers in his hair gripped tighter.

Raising his hands, he touched her waist. Testing. She gasped and stepped back. Paterson’s breathing had gone ragged.

He backed to the bed and sat. Held out his arms for her. This position put them nearly at eye level. She moved into the space between his knees and took his face in her hands again.

“Is it all right if I put my hands on you?” he asked her, quiet and soft, as the light of the afternoon spilled all around them.

Her hands moved from his face to his shoulders, all the way down to his hands. She pulled his hands to her waist, left them there while she took his face again and kissed up the bridge of his nose. While she kissed, he bunched her shirt in his fists, drawing her closer.

He explored her little waist, her hips. Let his thumbs skim up her bare belly when he slipped them under her shirt. Her breath gushed over his face.

Taking her lips again, he kissed her slow and soft. There was no need to hurry. If this was all they did, he was a happy man. A happy, burning man.

He put his arms around her and pulled her tight to him. She hugged him around the shoulders, dropping her face into his neck. He fell back and brought her with him, chuckling when she squeaked.

“This is nice,” he said, stroking her arms and shoulders.

She sighed. “It’s not as scary as I thought it would be.”

He hugged her again. “I don’t want you to be scared of anything we do. You tell me what you want, or what you don’t want. Okay?”

“Thank you.”

\---

Rey nudged him aside that night when she crawled into his bed.

Paterson raised up with a groggy, “Rey?” 

“It’s me,” she said. “Can I sleep with you?” she whispered.

“Hmm. Come on.” He rolled over and held his arms open so she could snuggle into him. Rey had never slept with another person like this. Held tight, safe, and warm. She trembled slightly. This was Ben. Her husband now. A safe haven.

And she wanted to know what it would be like to sleep in the same bed with him.

He smelled nice, like fresh laundry and soap. Like warmth. She pressed her face into the T-shirt across the expanse of his chest. Felt his strong arms holding her. It was good.

She relaxed against him, feeling free of the terror that she would normally experience this close to another human being.

“If you feel something poking you, don’t be afraid. That’s just my body saying, ‘I’m happy that you’re here,’” he mumbled into her hair.

She laughed and threw an arm over his waist.

From then on she slept, wrapped tight in her new husband’s arms, every night.

The new work week started, their little vacation over, but she didn’t go back to UPS. Still up early, she packed their lunches and went to work with Ben. Came home in the evening with Ben.

It was the beginning of their new routine.

Rey began to look forward to life. To more kisses, more reading together, to more time with Ben.

Months had gone on like that in quiet contentment.

One night after Ben had left out for his nightly trek to Shades bar to visit with Doc and have a beer, she found the notebook she’d seen him writing in. It surprised her to find that the book was filled with poetry. His poetry? All in Ben’s handwriting. She read some that delighted her. He was so talented!

There were recent poems that made her still and read them over and over.

_Fatal Truth_

_I want to learn your secrets_ _  
__Not to be intrusive._ _  
__I want to know you._ _  
__Be part of you._ _  
__Share myself with you._ _  
__Rip my chest open wide_ _  
__If it would help._ _  
__So you could see inside_ _  
__And know the fatal truth._

She cried at the end of that one. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? He would die if she ripped his chest open. He would die if he told her the truth. He would die if she knew the truth?

_If_

_If I were a knight in the times of swords and chivalry,_ _  
__You would be my lady fair._ _  
__If I were a drowning man,_ _  
__You would be the air._ _  
__If I had been a man asleep a hundred years,_ _  
__You would be my never-waking dream._ _  
__If you were water,_ _  
__I’d be a sponge or a man with a thirst who would die_ _  
__Unless he drank up all of you. Every last drop._ _  
__I held your hand in my hand and said I do._ _  
__I kissed your lips and sealed it there_ _  
__A bond now strong and true._

She had to clear away more tears before she could read the next.

_Love Story_

_My love,_ _  
__Maybe our love story wasn’t perfect._ _  
__Maybe it was just the way it was meant to be._ _  
__I see how small you are, your little hand in mine,_ _  
__But you take up every bit of space in my heart._ _  
__My heart has never been bigger, never so full, never beat so hard_ _  
__Or so vigorously, at the very sight of you,_ _  
__With the slightest touch of your skin on mine,_ _  
__With a sweet word from your smiling lips_ _  
__Decorated with a dimpled cheek._ _  
__You have given my days true meaning._ _  
__You have given my love a home._  
 _Our story didn’t begin with a perfect beginning,_ _  
But I wouldn’t change anything._

She dropped the book and ran to her room.

\---

That night when Paterson came home and readied himself for bed, he was looking forward to seeing Rey, but she was in the spare bedroom and the door was closed.

They’d spent every night sleeping in the same bed. Just sleeping. But it was a comfort he’d grown accustomed to and enjoyed.

She didn’t come to join him in bed after he settled in.

Paterson laid awake, unable to sleep, listening hard for her footfalls across the floor. Almost imagining the blankets being moved, imagined she curled into the bed beside him.

But she didn’t come.

He slept in a little later the next morning. Saturday. He dressed and found a letter on the kitchen counter. Rey was not in the house.

_Ben,_

_I’ve always heard that stupid phrase, “Follow your heart.” Know why it’s stupid? Because how can you follow a heart that’s broken up inside you? There’s no heart to follow. There’s only rubble that lays where it fell._

_This was me, but then you came along and started cleaning up the aftermath. You built something out of the pieces that were left behind._

_You deserve the best, and the best of everything you want._

_I don’t feel worthy of you. Plain and simple._

_I was used by those who were supposed to love me. Thrown away by those who were supposed to keep me. Some days I don’t even know how to feel. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about myself. I’ve not thought about me much at all. Not until recently. Not until you._

_I’m afraid that there’s not much left of me for you to hold on to. I’m afraid that you won’t want to try. I’m afraid to tell you that I want you to try._

_I’m scared to tell you, but I’m going to tell you what happened. I think I can write it better than I can say it. I’m going to spill my guts onto this page. I’m sorry._

_My birth mother was a drug addict and a vagrant. I was in and out of foster care or placed with strangers when my mother found someone to look after me. I never had a settled home life. But life was always worse when my mother came around. Worse when she was lucid and wanted to play at being a mom. Worse still when she was out of her mind and didn’t know her own name or when she brought her boyfriends to wherever we were staying._

_Her boyfriends were not nice men. They would want things from me. And that woman, my mother, would let them take everything. She would hold me down when I tried to run away and hide._

_I should have told you sooner. I should have said something before we married. I should have given you the choice to say no._

_Now I see that I’ve manipulated you in the same way my mother used to manipulate me._

_I am so sorry._

_If you no longer want to be with me, I understand._

\---

He found her at the falls. Stopped next to her. Quiet. There with her.

“I read your poetry notebook. I’m sorry if I wasn’t supposed to,” she finally said to him.

He smiled a little, staring out over the jagged falls. “It’s okay. I’m afraid you saw something you weren’t ready to see.”

“Your poems are beautiful. I didn’t know you were writing such things.”

“Is that what inspired this letter?” he tapped the paper against the rail.

She stared down at the ripped envelope and nodded, knowing he’d seen the words she’d written to him.

“And now you think things have changed for me.”

“Haven’t they?” She glanced up into his eyes, beautiful and light, open and searching.

“If this had happened to me,” he began, tapping the letter once more, “would you push me aside, and throw me away?”

She gripped the rail tight feeling tremors flow through her. The instant welling of tears. “No,” she breathed, and choked on the breath. Sobbed to let it out. “I would love you. I would love you harder because I know what it feels like.”

His warm hand landed on top of hers. His lips against her temple. “I love you,” he spoke into her skin. “I love you so much because you are worthy of love. You deserve love. I love you no matter what you’ve been through. I’ll keep loving you no matter what will come.”

She pushed her face into his chest and cried. The tears fell and washed away like the falls into the Passaic.

“I love you,” she hiccupped into the place over his heart once the tears subsided.

He kissed the top of her head, forehead, her eyelids. When he stopped, she looked up at him. He was crying too.

“I think we need to do something,” he sniffed, wiping his face and nose. He pulled a box of Ohio Blue Tip matches from his pocket. “I think it’s time you set your past on fire and let it go up in smoke. What do you think?”

He put his arm around her and held her letter up over the railing that kept them from tumbling into the river. He gave her the box of matches.

Trembling again, Rey struck a match and lit a corner of the letter. Then she took the burning paper from Ben and held it until it wasn’t safe to hold it any longer. She let go of the last white corner and they both watched the smoldering flame as it fell to ash into the river beneath.

Rey smiled up at him through the last of her tears. He peppered her face in slow, soft kisses. Those kinds of kisses had the power to melt her every time.

“Are you ready to come home?” he asked her.

\---

“Lights on or lights off?”

Rey’s fingers toyed with the hem of her sweatshirt. She gestured to the lamp. “Leave the lamp on,” she said quietly.

They were going to attempt no-pressure, no-expectations, lovemaking.

Because that’s what _it_ was to Paterson. He was going to make love to his wife if she was okay with it, and if she wasn’t, he would be fine with that too.

Her long hair was tied up in a bun on top of her head and the low light made her glow. She was lovely, and he loved her.

He moved to the bed and sat in front of her, lamp side. Waited for her to make the first move.

She hadn’t moved yet, looking uncertain. He smiled and leaned back on his hands.

“I have to admit something,” he murmured. “I noticed you a long time before you ever spoke to me. I thought you were pretty. What I didn’t realize, then, is that you are beautiful.”

A breathy laugh escaped her.

“I love kissing you,” he continued. “I bet I would love kissing you everywhere.”

She finally took hesitant steps into the wedge between his knees. He swallowed hard.

“I think I prefer to do the kissing tonight.”

Paterson blinked, finding it difficult to breathe for a beat. “You can do whatever you like with me.”

“What if you don’t like the things I do?”

“Then I’ll tell you. And it will be okay. That’s how it works.” He dropped down to his elbows, making himself seem, hopefully, less threatening to her.

He smiled up at her. “We can stop any time, Rey.”

“No. I want to. I really want to. It’s just so hard. Why is this so bloody hard?”

“Let’s try something you already know you like,” he suggested.

She crawled over his leg onto the bed beside him. “I really liked it when you touched my face on the bus that one time. It was soft and sweet, and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Paterson turned toward her on his side, matching her position with his head propped on his hand. He started first by sweeping a stray tendril of hair behind her ear, letting his fingertips caress the shell slow. Just as slow, his thumb and knuckles drew a line on the tender underside of her jawline.

“Like this?” he asked.

Her lips parted, her eyes closed. “Yes.”

He did the same across the whole of her face. Unhurried, savoring each little reaction. Each time her breath hitched.

He added a tender kiss here and there. After a while, trailed his fingers down her shoulder and her arm. Slipped his fingers between hers and brought them to his lips. He nibbled on the pads of her fingers.

Rey laughed a little at that.

He laid her hand down on his waist, right by his T-shirt covered ribs. His fingertips worked up her arm again. He kissed her upper arm over her sweatshirt. Kissed the underside of her jaw.

Rey circled his waist with her arm, drawing them closer. Paterson rolled to his back, bringing her on top of him.

“Now you can kiss me, Rey.”

They kissed like that until they fell asleep tangled up together. And that was okay.

Another night, Rey asked Paterson if he would take his shirt off. He eagerly reached overhead and ripped it off with one hand. She explored the angles and contours of his upper body with her mouth and fingertips.

“My beautiful wife,” he murmured to her, watching her. “I love you. I love the way you touch me.”

And all that touching was frustratingly delightful.

Another night like that one, and Paterson knew he would embarrass himself in front of her.

Weeks later, when she was finally comfortable with the both of them being completely naked, he asked if he could kiss her all over.

He did so praising her loveliness. He went to his knees and worked his lips up her thighs. Stroked the backs of her knees and on up to the cleft of her bottom. Let his tongue taste the sweet slit at her apex. Her knees buckled and she sat on the bed, eyes wide and searching.

“You taste delicious,” he said, crossing his arms behind her back and sliding her to the very edge of the bed. “I could drink you up.”

“Okay,” she said breathlessly. “Do that again. Please.”

He groaned and nuzzled her, ecstatic that she was open to this. He savored her, languid and deliberate, tonguing her clit with slow, broad strokes. He kept his hands busy stroking her legs and belly. Touching the undersides of her breasts.

He listened to her, felt her tense and relax, gasp and groan. He finally moved lower and slid his tongue inside her, loving the smell and taste of her. Her hands clutched his hair, pulling, pushing. Her eyes were closed, her face screwed up in confused, concentrated ecstasy. She shouted his name when he slid slick fingers slowly over her clit and moved his tongue deeper.

Her insides clamped down on his tongue and he could feel her coming. Still crying out. Arching. Panting. Clenching. Trembling.

Her hands left his hair and she covered her face with them.

She was crying.

Paterson gathered her in his arms and held her.

“Shh, baby. Don’t cry. Are you okay? Was that okay?”

When the tears stopped she nodded. “That felt so good. I’ve never felt something like that before.”

He huffed a relieved laugh. Kissed her hair. Her eyes. “Good. That belongs to us, baby. That feeling belongs to us.”

She hugged him.

“Look at you,” he praised. “You’re so gorgeous. So sweet on my tongue. I want to make you feel that way all the time.”

He laid them both backward on the bed and he tried not to think about the slick, sopping-wet heat between her legs. His cock kept twitching against her hip.

“I want to make you feel that good,” she whispered into his neck.

“I’m not going to say no,” he chuckled.

On his back, she was on top, smashing his cock into his belly. “Just slide over me like that.”

She braced her hands on his chest and tested out the movement of her hips, her wet lips on the solid length of his cock. He kneaded her thighs and backside, reached up and plucked lightly at her nipples.

“I love you, Rey. You’re so beautiful. You make this so good.”

He arched his hips up, seeking more friction, more pressure. She ground down against him.

“Yes. Baby. Just like that,” he encouraged her. He arched off the mattress when her fingertips caught and stroked his nipples.

His hips worked faster under her, and it didn’t take long for him at all. He came with a loud groan, spurting his release across his belly and chest.

She had a pleased smile on her face when he was finally coherent enough to look up at her. “You made me come so hard, baby.”

“It was good?” she asked.

“So good,” he smiled up at her.

Their nights, for weeks, went on like that, pleasuring each other with their mouths and hands. He wrote poems on her skin with his tongue. If he had to invent new ways of loving her every night, he would do it willingly and with as much creativity as he could think up.

It wasn’t always easy for Rey, but she became comfortable with what they were able to do together.

After reading in bed together one night, Rey whispered in his ear, “I want you inside me tonight.”

Paterson’s switch flipped on in an instant. “I got condoms.”

She laughed and shimmied out of her clothes. He turned to the edge of his side of the bed, looking for the little packets he’d need later. She came up behind him and lifted his undershirt, running her hands up his back at the same time. Her lips kissed up his spine.

“That feels nice.”

Her breasts teased there while she pressed all her warmth to him. He smiled over his shoulder, slipping out of his clothes.

“Where do you want me, baby?” he asked her, low and quiet.

“On the bed. I’m going to sit on your lap.”

Paterson propped some pillows behind him and leaned against the wall. He held out his arms for his wife. “If anything happens that you don’t like, just tell me. We’ll stop. Okay?”

“I know, baby,” she grinned, crawling toward him, naked and beautiful and all his.

“You are something else,” he murmured, awed. He dropped a condom by his knee and gathered her in his arms. He traced every inch of her with worshipful caresses. Did the same with his lips, pausing to suck on her nipples until she panted and begged for more.

He soon found her wet and hot and he couldn’t resist teasing her clit and gliding a slick finger around her entrance. “Do you want me here, Rey?”

She gasped and nodded, stuffing her face between his neck and shoulder. He dipped a finger inside to see how she felt about that.

Slow, slow, slow. All the way in. He stayed there, letting her get used to the sensation. “Baby, look at me and tell me how that feels.”

Dilated hazel eyes found his. “It’s…” She squirmed and clenched around his finger. “It’s not enough,” she said.

“You want more?” he asked.

She kissed him, tongue darting between his lips. “Yes. I’m ready for more.”

He slipped that finger out and slowly teased her clit before going back and pressing the tips of two fingers inside her. Just tiny little dips inside at a time. Gradually making his way deeper. Feeling her grow wetter, clench harder.

He kissed up her neck, lips at her ear. “You feel like heaven. I can’t wait to be inside you. Do you want to come on my cock?” he whispered.

She panted and nodded, rotating her hips. He kissed her as he eased out of her and reached for the condom. She watched him roll it on between them. He leaned back and helped her line up.

She trembled over his cock and he told her to go slow. “No rush, baby. Take it slow. You’re so beautiful looking down at me like that. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

He felt his cock split into her warmth and the sensation of it rolled over him. Dulled somewhat by the condom, but still exquisite. He gasped and raised his knees, pitching her forward onto his chest. He peppered her face with kisses and I love yous.

When she raised herself upright, she was all the way down and he was buried to the root.

He just had to recline there and breathe.

“You can move a little now. I’m not made of glass, Ben. I won’t break,” she said.

“But I might,” he groaned.

“You feel so good, Ben. You’ve been so good to me. I love you.” And she began to move.

He worshiped her body in awe. Every bit of skin his eyes and hands could touch. He met her with thrusts that rolled them in waves of pleasure. He made lazy circles around her clit and felt her grow frenzied toward a finish.

“Come for me, baby. I’m going to come so hard for you.” An earnest plea. 

Rey whimpered and arched backward when her orgasm clenched all her internal muscles. Paterson felt every milking spasm and fell over the edge with her.

He gripped her hips tight over his cock until he was spent.

“Rey?” he groaned. “Was that all right?”

She was crying.

He sat up and kissed her tears away. Whispered, “Please don’t cry, baby.”

She smiled through the tears. “I’m just so happy, Ben. I never thought I’d be happy. Ever. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

And just like that, Paterson fell in love with Rey all over again.

He didn’t know how many times that was supposed to happen, but he hoped it kept happening until his dying day.

Later, in their afterglow, Rey laid on Ben’s chest, tracing her finger over his heart. He grinned and asked what she was doing.

She traced out all the letters to H O M E as she smiled up at him with her gold and green eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> The real poem used in this fic is cited.
> 
> I apologize that the love poems I subjected you to are all my own. Fatal Truth, If, and Love Story are originals.
> 
> Let me know what you think!


End file.
